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Poem


Written: July 18, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker

Line of inquiry:
"heart sets up a vibration 
echoing as wordless intent
mind translates in symbols
flight of our soul’s ascent
is intent then a stirring
of soul with God, conferring"

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Before tenacity sets off its fetching flame,
There is a stillness that cogitation can't achieve.
A breathless edge where time loses its cleave,
And stillness screams what words never claim.

The heart begins with an unanswered bell,
A fork of tuning fire before a plucking smell.
Its pulse is an unwritten or unheard poem,
A lit beacon shines in the grid of low hum.

Soul and root share secrets in this domain,
In soft waves of warm, unspoken light.
If feelings boil up, but lack a refrain,
Still caught up in the whirlwind of pure might. 

All that matters is the look of that sparkle,
A phantom of greatness carved from the glow?
Ideas arise from dreams barely recalled,
A river that blends where no map can scald.

The mind is an inception of a starry semaphore,
Strain to maintain this shaking in a scroll.
But what it communicates is only a spore,
Mirrors of an overall that lacked a belt role. 

The soul is a vessel lined with vapor vows,
Doesn't talk; it only pulses and flames. 
Its desire strums the strings when it plows,
Not sowed, not seen, but vital with a name.

So before the page, the docket, and the appeal,
There is a sacred rhythm that rules, not real—
A chorus of rhythm sans beget, wild and free,
A rifle that is still not seen by the scree.

Is this divine voice in quiet sway? 
Talking to the soul of cosmic breath?
A hymn that vibrates but cannot say,
Where truth and myth flock across death.

Intent is but the ember after song—
Ash of awe where stars and spirit throng.

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